Lost For A Reason
by Earial13
Summary: Before Katniss became the Mockingjay, before the Hunger Games were ever invented, another girl in 12 fought for Panem's freedom. The backstory of the people in the Hanging Tree and of the first rebellion, as told by Mr. Everdeen to Katniss.
1. Prologue

"Katniss."

Her father's gentle voice floated down to the seven-year-old girl in her hiding place by the honeysuckle tree. She ignored it and clutched her knees to her chest, unconsciously rocking back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Anything to drown out the angry screams in her head, but still her mother's words echoed in her brain.

" _Katniss! What were you_ thinking _?! Do you know what you could have_ done _?!"_

"Katniss."

" _Don't_ ever _sing that again, do you hear me?!"_

Mother had never yelled at her like that before. Was it because she hated her oldest daughter? "Katniss." A little more urgently now.

Maybe that was it. She hadn't yelled at three-year-old Prim. Why was this her fault? She wasn't trying to be naughty. The lovely day now seemed tainted from the discord in the little household; the air didn't feel as warm, nor the grass as soft as it had ten minutes ago.

The girl shuddered slightly as she felt a shadow block the sun, causing the spring breeze to dance ever colder on her shoulders and neck. It seemed even Nature shared her mother's distaste for her.

"Katniss, you shouldn't be angry at your mother...or frightened of her." The voice said, regret easily palpable in his deep timbres as Mr. Everdeen crouched next to his daughter. "She loves you."

"Then why'd she yell at you? At me?" Katniss spoke at last, tones heavy with accusation, yet the slight cracking on the last two words revealed the true hurt behind her angry words. "It was just a stupid game, a stupid song that _you_ taught us."

The dark-haired girl glanced up at her father at this, watching conflicting emotions tug at his strong features. He knew that she didn't really think the simple song was stupid, but she could tell by his silence that her barbed words still stung. He disliked being on the harsh end of his wife's infrequent outbursts even less than she did.

"Why?" She asked again, when the quiet between them had grown loud enough to hear her own heartbeat. She paused and then clarified. "Why can't we sing 'The Hanging Tree'? What's so bad about it?"

"There are some things better left in the past." Everdeen released a long sigh, bending to look into her averted face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taught you two that song."

"We were just playing." Katniss scowled a little, wiping away the traitorous tears that had previously fallen unheeded with a grimy hand. "We didn't mean to be bad."

"I know, sweetheart."

Another pause.

"Will you forgive me?" He asked quietly.

That broke her resentment, the arrow of love flying high above her wall of anger, as she turned to him and allowed him to envelop her in a tender embrace. Father and daughter were too close for disputes to ever stand for long between them.

"Will you tell me now, tell me why that song made Mother shout?" This came out softly, a breath of a question that drifted lazily into the cool air, tinged with both uncertainty and hope. Forbidden knowledge would forever keep its primeval allure, no matter the consequences that lurked in the shadows.

Another sigh, heavier this time, as she watched her father read her countenance, sizing up her ability to weather the tale behind the simple verses, divining if she could stand whatever horrors made her mother react so violently to the sisters' playing earlier.

Apparently he found some confirmation in her steadfast gaze, as if he knew that his independent daughter could benefit from such a story.

 _Such a story…_ He thought sadly.

"And if I tell you, Katniss, will you promise not sing 'The Hanging Tree' around your mother and not to repeat what I'm about to say?"

Katniss nodded, pupils widening in anticipation as she nudged herself closer, the prickly grass tickling her bare ankles.

"And you can't tell Prim either, not until she's older, promise?"

"I promise." She whispered, as if the very trees or the ground might overhear and betray her confidence. Whatever this dark tale was that caused grown women to blanch and gentle voices to rise in anger, her father obviously trusted her enough to share it with her. That was what caused the warm little glow that bloomed in her chest, washing away any vestiges of her hurt feelings as she waited for him to start. "It can be our secret." She added confidentially, enjoying the air of mystery that surrounded them.

Her father's lips quirked slightly upwards as he settled himself more comfortably among the bobbing daisies and cheerful dandelions. "Yes, our secret." He paused, turning his head to watch a robin flit across the soft blue sky that lovingly spread its folds about the entire Meadow.

"The tale I'm about to tell has been handed down for years; my father, your grandpa, was a young boy at the time, and it was he who told me this story." He gazed into the distance, old memories resurfacing and treading telling marks across his features. "Almost every grown adult in 12 knows this tale well, for it sits in the back of all our minds, ever ready to remind us of the cost that was paid-for good and ill."

He stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts, and while Katniss didn't completely understand all of what he had said, she nodded for him to continue. He cleared his throat, and commenced.

" _It started over sixty years ago, several years before the Dark Days began..."_


	2. Dusk Falls

"I want ten coins plus both of your blankets."

Dark grey eyes narrowed at the greasy and bloody butcher, sizing up his offer. "Six coins with one of the blankets." Cassia returned, eying the haunch of deer meat the pair had been haggling over for the past quarter of an hour. She kept eye contact, knowing that if she showed any signs of hesitance the man, Barnes by name, would only become more stubborn about his price. It was times like this all those staring contests as children paid off.

"Eight coins and both of the blankets, that's my last offer." The man huffed, annoyed with his tenacious customer. The sun was setting and most of the people of District 12 were heading home after a grueling day in the mines, eager for a little chance to rest before tomorrow came. "Don't expect me to go lower for wool blankets in the middle of spring; we all gotta live, girl."

The nineteen-year-old permitted herself a small smile, pointedly ignoring his last sentence. "Deal." She said smoothly, handing over the coins from the leather pouch at her side and the two woven blankets as the desired meat was ignominiously shoved into her arms.

 _Evening to you, too._ Cassia thought with a twinge of annoyance at his sour attitude as she walked back through the marketplace.

She couldn't really blame the man, though, times were hard everywhere. She wrinkled her nose in concentration, figuring up her earnings; at least she'd talked him down from his original price somewhat. Cassia readjusted the deer haunch in her arms with a satisfied expression, though her pleasure was tempered with the knowledge that she had sold her last blanket. No more trading until she could weave a new one. And Barnes was right, few of the poverty-stricken people of 12 would buy such a commodity in June. That was the life of a poor person, supply and demand constantly screwing with you and whatever homemade trinket you were able to invariably produce out of (but never in) season.

 _Welcome to poverty,_ She thought ironically, lips twisting in a grim smile. _Over here we have our sick and starving elderly. Up ahead you can see our underage and underpaid workers._

She shook her head to get rid of the morose thoughts, deciding to dwell instead on her recent transaction. _C'mon, Cass, stop thinking like that. No morbid mental tour guides._

Although her former school teacher had told her differently, bartering was truly an art form. Cassia's family had benefited from their daughter's skill with words and the loom, especially since food was getting all the harder to come by after the blight that had decimated half of Panem's crops.

 _And if you look to your left you can see the famine exhibit, folks. Notice the bloated bellies, the skeletal arms…_

So much for her temporary taboo on sarcasm.

Anger towards the Capitol was brewing in the districts these days, a bubbling pot of resentment against the tyranny of the national government, threatening to boil over if something wasn't done and done soon. District 13 had been the most vocal of the districts, though they hadn't shown any intention to follow through with their impassioned speeches and chaotic rallies. Yet. Such uprisings from the district that engineered nuclear weapons wasn't exactly going to make the Capitol officials sleep comfortably in their silk-lined beds, and they couldn't be expected to ignore 13's cries much longer.

People whispered dangerous words in dark corners, like rebels, _freedom,_ and revolution. Most dismissed this as a mere school boy fancy, nothing substantial behind it or something only crazy 13 would do, though Cassia knew from experience they were wrong.

She tossed her head of dark auburn hair over her shoulder, distaste for the Capitol coloring her features as she quickened her stride and continued walking through the emptying square. Every day brought new hardships, another obstacle to overcome in order to survive, and twelve more hours in which not to be swallowed by the rushing sea of humanity. Every day she had to watch her older brother Thad and her father descend into the horrid mines, every day watch the hollows in her younger brother's cheeks deepen, the shadows underneath her mother's eyes grow, and her world slowly rip apart.

 _When will this madness end? This life that can scarce be called one?_

That was what made the idea of a revolution so appealing, so alluring. And it wasn't just an idea any longer. Cassia remembered when she first discovered that Thad was an active part of 12's underground rebel group. Suddenly a whole new realm of possibilities and-even better-hope had flooded her being. However, though their parents were supportive, they insisted Cassia wait until she was 'older' to participate.

 _"It's safer this way, honey." Father had told her, tiredly rubbing a work-roughened hand across his face. "I'm glad you want to fight for a cause like this, but the Capitol is not to be taken lightly. I just can't allow it right now, not with so much uncertainty about our situation."_

 _"A revolution is about everyone being involved, Dad, not protecting the women while the men fight for our rights." She'd retorted angrily._

 _"It's not a revolution yet, it's just a rebellion. And a rebellion is most fragile in its infancy, when it can be quashed with its leaders. Wait until it's matured a little."_

 _"Thad's only two years older then me, risking_ his _life, what difference does it make?"_

 _"Sis, don't drag me into this," Thad had protested. "Dad's just trying to protect you, don't you understand?"_

No. No, she hadn't understood, and still didn't. Hence why she snatched every opportunity to listen in on those mumbled conversations, catch the subtle hand gestures, and once (when she was extremely lucky) sneak into a meeting in an old coal mine. Thad had caught her on this little expedition, and though he didn't tattle to Father, he made sure she knew that his silence could only be stretched so far. There never was another meeting in the mine after that.

"You're making this about you, Cass, and what you want, not about the people. We're fighting for a reason bigger than us." Thad had said, green eyes sparking with the same liberating fire infecting the insurgents and the rest of 12's denizens like a voracious lion.

Of course she knew they were fighting for "a reason." Why else would you fight? The citizens of 12 did many things without apparent reason, but warmongering was not one of them. Everyone dismissed her and her ideas just because they didn't want her to get hurt, like she was a china plate in the infamous rosebud set the mayor's wife supposedly used everyday.

"I'm not a child." Cassia grumbled to herself, hoisting the packaged venison higher on her shoulder as she walked through the dusk towards her home.

"I can see that." An amused voice broke through her turbulent thoughts, needing no face to identify its owner, as two figures stepped through the shadows to stand by her side.

"Hello, Pent." She sighed to the brown-haired, olive skinned young man who had spoken, rolling her eyes away from the pair. "Already back from the mines?"

"What? He gets a greeting but I don't?" Colvin asked, feigning hurt, as he appeared on her other side with a laughing smile. As usual, the two best friends were never far apart.

 _Let the banter begin._

"Hello, _Col_." She said, purposefully using the hated nickname, lips quirking upwards in spite of herself when he mimed getting shot through the heart at her jab.

"Ouch, Cassia, take it easy on him." Pent joked, transferring the meat from her arms to his own by way of conciliation. "He just broke up with Rita today."

Cass rolled her eyes again and sucked down a sigh. Her brother's childhood friends ranked first and second on her mental "Most Flirtatious List", and both used their admittedly good looks to wreck havoc with the ladies' hearts. How they managed to even find girls' hearts to break in the midst of such poverty was beyond Cassia's imagination.

"What was that, three girls this month?" She asked disapprovingly, handing out a liberal portion of her "guilt glare."

"Yup." Colvin grinned, unrepentant as he swiped his longish black hair away from his face. "Though it was four girls last month."

"Aw, is the wittle Blue-Eyed Wonder losing his twouch?"

"Don't blame us for living up to our reputations, Cass." Pent scolded, golden eyes lighting with merriment. Joking with Cass had been, and still was, a favorite pastime for the duo. In her eyes, however, it meant triple the amount of brotherly teasing. Just image the mud wars and spit balls when you're nine.

"By reputation, I assume you mean 'ladykiller'?" The girl replied, making air quotes with her fingers and another roll of her eyes.

"Keep doing that to your eyes and they're gonna be doing constant barrel rolls." Colvin admonished her teasingly. "Besides, the fair young maidens of 12 need _something_ to swoon over, and Pent and I are happy to fill the vacancy."

"As ever, Sir Praeta, you've hit the nail right on the head." Pent chuckled, swinging the meat as if it were a hammer (bringing forth warnings and threats from Cassia) and his friend's noggin the nail.

"Thank you, Sir Rosenman, I do try my best."

"Heading home, Cass?" Pent asked as the two old friends continued to dog their "wittle sissy's" steps.

"No, I'm going to the Capitol with this meat," Cassia retorted, turning down the dirt street that led back home. "Where else would I take it?"

"Is everything okay at home?" Colvin asked quietly, swiveling his head to look searchingly at her face.

"It's fine." She bit out, frustrated at their questions and frustrated at herself for getting frustrated in the first place.

Colvin lapsed into silence while the heir of the House of Rosenman raised his free hand in a placating gesture. "Hey, can't a poor guy ask a simple question around here?" Pent protested. "I know we taught you to be sassy, but lay off a bit, will ya?"

"I'm sorry," She mumbled guiltily, kicking the ground with a well-worn boot. "It's been a hard week and I don't really want to talk about it."

"It's been a hard week for everyone, Cass," Colvin said, his features growing serious like they only did when discussing the state of the district. "People are starving, dying, everyday, while the Capital sits and ignores or mocks us all, shoving heavier work loads down our throats instead."

"12 will choke soon on the tyranny." Pent agreed somberly, gazing out at the dwindling crowd on the street. "She needs help; Panem needs help."

Cassia caught her breath in excitement. Though both men were part of the rebellion, neither were forthcoming with many details, and she relished each time they forgot and spoke to her as an equal rebel. She held her tongue, knowing a word from her could bring the pair back to reality and lose her a chance to gather news.

"She'll get help." Colvin was saying grimly. "If it costs the blood of hundreds to save the lives of thousands from this slavery. Soon, we wi-"

Unfortunately for Cassia, Pent recalled himself then and nudged Colvin silent, eliciting a sigh from their companion.

"If you guys could just tell me…" She pleaded, already knowing the case was hopeless even before Pent's adamant "no".

"...besides, here we are!" He added as they reached the Grath's house, a simple four-room shanty like most of 12's living quarters. This one stood out with the trailing violets around the door in a slightly pathetic effort to liven the dreary place up.

"Yeah," Cass replied glumly as she took the venison from Pent. "Thanks guys, I'll tell Thad you said hello."

"Tell him Mom's always got some stew for him after 9 o'clock if he wants to stop over." Colvin added with a grin. "Now buck up, Cass, I know it hurts to see us go…"

"...but we can't help our devastatingly good looks!" Pent finished with a chortle as the irrepressible duo bounded away. "Bye!"

Cassia let a smile grow on her face in spite of herself. "Bye." She said quietly, even though she knew they were already too far away to hear her reply. She pushed the rickety door open with her hip, the dented wooden article obliging with a pained creak as it scraped across the rough floor. "I'm home!" She called, letting fake cheerfulness infuse her tired voice as she strode into the kitchen, setting the meat down on the table with a thunk.

"Cassia Maria, you get that bloody meat off the table right now!" Her mother scolded without any real anger as she bustled in, a faded apron tied around her slim waist. Just like said apron, Lynn Grath's once famed beauty had worn thin over the years of hardship and loss, yet her auburn locks were still as thick and her brown eyes still as pure as in the days of her youth. Both younger brother Asher and Cassia had inherited her hair, Thad being the odd man out with his blonde head.

"Yes, Mother." Cassia said, dutifully moving the haunch of protein to the small counter and swiping at the goop on the table with her sleeve.

"Oh, honey, this is wonderful! How did you manage to buy a whole haunch?" Mrs. Grath questioned, prodding the meat with an experienced eye.

Her daughter shrugged nonchalantly, not willing to mention that their dinner for the next week (or whenever they had money to buy more food) had cost the last of her blankets. "Old Barnes was feeling generous today, I guess." She hesitated as Lynn fussed over the meager fire in the steel grate, coaxing it back to life.

"How's Asher?" Cassia finally asked, looking down at the scarred wooden table to avoid any eye contact that would give her the nonverbal answer she dreaded.

Her mother sighed, pausing in her cooking preparation to glance towards the back room where her youngest son lay. "He's sleeping right now, but I can't keep him warm and he's still coughing up phlegm too."

Cassia nodded resignedly. She hadn't really expected better news. Eight years younger than her, Asher had been the bright spot in the family, his exuberant personality all the more welcome seeing as his siblings had had to grow up far too fast. Then he caught a serious case of pneumonia last winter, leaving him a shell of his former bubbly self. He'd never really recovered, which was why he was freezing in the middle of April and steadily growing weaker with every dry, hacking cough.

"I'm going to go check on him," Cass said, running a weary hand through her burnished hair as she quietly made her way to the room that served as a bedroom for her parents and a sickroom for Asher. She poked her head into the darkened room, the smell of sickness hitting her like a brick. Asher was on his side, curled into the fetal position people assume when trying to generate body heat. His breathing was labored and shallow, his brow slightly furrowed in sleep as he stirred underneath all the blankets they possessed.

Cassia swallowed the lump that rose in her throat as she gazed on the small form of her brother, obscured by the miniature mountain of fabric. Slowly, so as not to wake him, she seated herself in the chair next to his bedside. It pained her to see Asher like this, but none of the resident apothecary's herbs had helped and Capitol medicine was as out of the question as the moon. In 12, your best medicine was your immune system, and when that was weakened, you were on your own.

Chewing her bottom lip distractedly, Cassia carefully brushed a mussed piece of hair off Asher's clammy brow, old memories returning as she gazed at his pinched face. That proud moment when she finally became a "big sister", holding the tiny baby in her arms. Before his lungs were filled with fluid, he'd been quite a loud infant, often waking them up in the middle of the night. Running through the streets, laughing and playing tag without a care for the world and its worries. Chasing stray animals in hopes of gaining of pet (Asher, like all children, had always wanted a dog), though they never succeeded on that front. Besides, her adult mind reasoned as she came up out of her nostalgia, pets were impractical and another mouth to feed.

Suddenly, Cassia's eye caught on her mother's old sewing bag. An idea hit her. Rising quickly, she stalked over to her room and returned shortly with an old ripped dress she'd outgrown last year and was currently serving as a floor hole patcher-upper. Bits and pieces had already been hacked from its folds to mend other clothing, but a sizable portion still remained. She dove into the sewing bag and returned wielding a pair of dull, slightly rusty scissors, which proceeded to laboriously cut and snag away at the fabric.

Cass sat in the growing dusk as she sewed the cut pieces together, enjoying the fragile feel of normalcy: her mother's soft humming in the next room, the heavy tread of Father and Thad's boots as they returned from the mines, and the soothing burble of the stew all combining into a homey melody. They didn't have much, but they had each other. It was at moments like this Cassia understood why some people chose not to join the rebellion; even if life was hard, their loved ones were safe. Yet, how long would they stay that way? Those people trusted in an unraveling rope, a false sense of security, to keep them from falling. Once the fighting erupted, the Capitol wouldn't care who was responsible or not, they all would be targeted.

Nowadays, being with her family reignited in Cass the fierce desire to protect those precious moments and ensure that her children's children were given the life they deserved. One without constant hunger, one without fretting about what the next day might hold. One without a sick sibling.

She glanced down at the material in her hands and held it up for inspection. The old fabric had been transformed into a little cloth dog, stuffed with leftover remnants. A perky button eye brightened the homemade animal as well as the floral pattern of the repurposed dress. She smiled at her work and carefully set it next to the bed, where Asher would see it when he woke.

 _Now you have your pet, buddy._

"Cass?" Her father poked his head through the doorway, the kitchen light spilling out behind him and catching in the silvery flecks in his dark brown hair. "Supper's ready." He mouthed quietly upon seeing Asher sleeping.

At 6'2", Mattias 'Matt' Grath towered in the tiny house, yet his kind grey eyes belied his intimidating frame. The coal dust that would never quite wash off his face gave his tanned skin a slight grayish hue, a trait most of 12's miners shared.

Cassia nodded and stepped around the bed, gently shutting the bedroom door on her way out.

"Have a good day, my sassia Cassia?" Father asked, swooping her up in a big bear hug.

"Mmhmm." She smiled at his old nickname for her as she hugged him back, feeling like a carefree child again in his arms.

Mother had set the table with what simple provisions they had: a few tiny and shriveled potatoes, greens and herbs, and the thin-sliced venison in the chipped blue dish from by-gone times. Despite having procured the meat only today, conservation was key, and food would have to be stretched in order to survive.

Thad was finishing washing his hands in the corner; he shot Cassia a grin, ruffling her hair up as they sat down. "Hey Sis."

"Hey, you." She replied good-naturedly, smoothing her ponytail back down and shamelessly poking him in the ribs for payback. "How was your day?"

Thad's lips thinned imperceptibly as he passed the potatoes to his father, a sure sign that all was not well, yet his tone remained light as he answered. "Well, Jamison mistook a lump of coal for his wife's biscuits at the noon break. I'll leave the rest to your imagination."

"The sight will remain in my memory for some time." Father chuckled, glancing at Thad quickly with a searching look as he cut his meat with a tarnished knife.

Cassia primmed her lips. Did they honestly think she couldn't tell they were hiding something? Experience, however, had taught her that the "men" usually had passable reasons for such "kind lies", this time probably being so as not to upset Mother. She'd accost Thad after dinner on the subject.

"Oh, hush you two," Mother was reproaching them gently. "You shouldn't say things like that, it's not Mrs. Jamison's fault her family never taught her to cook."

"It is Jamison's fault for marrying her though." Thad snickered with all the glee of an unrepentant sinner, eliciting a reluctant smile from Mrs. Grath that acknowledged the truth of his statement.

Cassia chewed her small portion of meat slowly as she listened to the family banter. Dinner was one of the rapidly diminishing moments when everything seemed….okay. When they shrugged off the troubles of the day and simply enjoyed each other's company without reminder of the pressures that poverty brought. Then her eye caught on Asher's empty chair at the end of the table, a stark reminder that their entire world and existence were so very fragile. Unbidden, Pent and Colvin's words from earlier floated to the forefront of her mind. Panem needed help.

 _I just want to do my part. If that'll ever happen._

"How's your weaving coming, Cass?" Father asked, pulling her mind from those dark and gloomy thoughts back into the present conversation.

"Good," She replied, sending a glance through the open door into her room in which stood the homemade loom they made most of their living off of. Once a hobby her mother had taught her, the girl's surpassing skill with the shuttle had saved them from utter ruination in the not-so-distant past. "I'm thinking of trying out a new mountain design for my next batch."

"That reminds me," Mother added as she speared some limp vegetables on her fork. "Hattie will be here tomorrow to sell more wool."

Cassia nodded slightly by way of response as her mouth was currently full. "Humming Hattie" was the owner of several sheep who had provided the material for Cassia's blankets over the last few years. Both parties helped each other out by the commerce their goods provided; the symbiotic relationship had kept both families afloat in the midst of crisis.

Cassia made a mental note to buy two hanks of wool from the sheep lady tomorrow. _That'll use up the last of my coins._

After supper was over and the dishes put away, Mother and Father wished them both goodnight and retired to their bedroom. Poor people didn't have the luxury of sleeping in late, so early bedtimes it was.

Cassia slipped into the room to bid Asher goodnight before Mother and Father fell asleep. The boy's eyelids fluttered at her entrance and he smiled drowsily up at her with a smile.

"Hi Cass," He said, voice slurred with sleep.

"Hi Asher," She whispered back. "I made something for you." She handed him the little fabric dog, delighting in the way his face lit up at the gift.

"Thank you, Cass, I love it!" He nuzzled the small toy happily, his sickness forgotten in the moment. "G'night."

"Goodnight, buddy boy."

Shutting the door softly behind her, Cass followed Thad into his small room, determined to know what had happened at the mines that couldn't be shared at the table with the rest of the family.

"Okay, Thad, spill." She said, crossing her arms a trifle defiantly.

"What do you want, Cass?" He asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed, pulling off a boot, and rubbing his sore foot.

"I know something happened today, even if Mother didn't pick up on it. You can tell me, I promise."

Thad heaved a sigh and glanced back through the door, ensuring against eavesdropping. "Wentler was killed this afternoon." He whispered quietly, sorrow filling his green eyes.

"What? How?" Cassia worriedly hissed back, concern building up inside her like a volcano. Though she hadn't known the man extremely well, Bruke Wentler always had a trinket for the children in his pockets and a kind word in his mouth for everyone else. Her fists clenched at her sides as Thad told his tale.

"Wentler got in trouble with a Capitol soldier this morning because he was working "too slow" and he couldn't go any faster, so they took away his mid-morning break as punishment. When we got back down there, he was dead from exhaustion and the fact he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours. He'd been giving his food to his children instead." Rage and anger grew in the elder Grath's voice as he continued. "They just threw him down there and _watched_ as he worked himself to death. They _forced_ him to keep working! They didn't do anything, Cass, just looked on as he died." He was breathing heavily now, reliving the sight of the man sprawled in the dust, while soldiers nonchalantly walked around the body.

"Thad, that's horrible!" Cassia said, fury at the Capitol fueling the bitterness in her tones as her eyes narrowed to slits. "Those soldiers are the ones that ought to be working in those mines! We're nothing but cattle to them, replaceable and useless."

"I know, Cass, believe me, I know." Thad huffed in frustration, pacing the tiny room restlessly, his agitation growing. "The Capitol keeps sending more troops in every week, but we won't be cowed, we won't, by God, we'll stand and fight!" He cried, disregarding his rising voice as he turned to face his sister, eyes flashing.

Cassia swallowed, feeling the same instinctual urge to rise and defend their rights. "Let me help, Thad." She begged fervently. "I can't just sit here at home weaving like nothing's wrong, I'll lose my mind! I need to _do_ something!"

Her plea only served to snap Thad back to the present. "No, Cass," He shook his head, albeit with a trace of regret. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you all this. Besides, you know what Father said."

"Thad-"

"Cassia, you are helping, you're keeping food on the table so we have the strength to stand against them. Don't discount what you're doing as worthless."

"But Thad, I care about the people-"

"Please, Cass," Thad cut her off, sighing heavily. "You're still young, and caught up in the glamour of it all. Do you really care what happens to the people, or just to yourself and your family? This isn't just about us, it's about everyone." He kept talking before she could protest again. "Let's change the subject, have you heard from Colvin or Pent today?"

Cassia stood staring blankly at her brother. How could he dismiss her like that? Claim she didn't care? Couldn't he see how desperately she wanted to be involved? This was a rebellion for heaven's sake! They needed everyone they could get.

"Colvin said you can come over for stew after 9 o'clock." She muttered, glaring at her boots like a reprimanded child.

 _That's how everyone treats me, anyways._

"Thank you, Cass." Thad paused awkwardly, waiting for her to look at him. When she refused, he sighed again. "I'm sorry, you know."

For an answer, Cassia turned and marched out the doorway onto the front step, barely restraining the juvenile desire to slam the door on her way out.

She sat down hard on the stone step, her chest aching with emotion. The stars cast a cold light over everything, oblivious to the hurt and anger raging down on the earth below. The nearby houses cast gloomy shapes in the twilight as the pain in her chest increased.

Thad had pointed out before that she only wanted to be in the rebellion for herself, for the excitement and thrill of it. That was partly true, she grudgingly admitted; in the beginning she hadn't really cared so much. However, things had changed now, and she wanted to help the people too, except her family couldn't see that.

 _Why does it even matter why people join so long as they join? So long as their intentions are good?_

There was no answer to her heart query. Above her, the stars continued their celestial dance like they had for thousands of years. She didn't know how long she sat there, the cold from the stone step slowly seeping into her body. It was almost 9 o'clock.

Through the open window, Cassia heard Asher coughing in his sleep, a dreadful hacking noise that sounded like he was being torn apart from the inside. The murmur of her mother's comforting, slightly bleary voice floated on the night air.

 _Asher could die._

The realization hit her hard, and suddenly, her fight with Thad seemed petty and childish. A lump rose in the 19 year old's throat as she drew her knees to her chest and rested her head on them.

 _Why do I care so much about some stupid uprising? Is it really just for selfish reasons? What do I want?_

"I want to make sure no child has face dying because of lack of medicine ever again." She moaned into the rough cloth of her pants, fighting back tears. "I want families to get enough to eat every day so their husbands and fathers don't die in mines. I want elderly people to live off the streets in warm houses. I want my family to live. I don't care what happens to me, I want a better life for everyone in 12." Cassia broke down, weeping softly and slowly rocking back and forth. Several minutes passed when she heard a quiet footfall and felt someone sit down next to her.

"Cass… You really mean that?" It was Thad, voice gentle and sorrowful as he wrapped a cautious arm around her shoulders.

She briefly contemplated shrugging his arm off, but decided against it. He hadn't been all wrong in his accusations.

"Of course I do." She sniffed, wiping the fluids from her face. "More than anything."

Thad was silent for a beat.

"I'm sorry for acting the way I did, that was uncalled for and I regret it."

"I...I forgive you." Cassia mumbled. "And I'm sorry too. You were right about me wanting to join for selfish reasons at first. It was immature of me to sneak around and try to listen in on meetings. And when my mindset changed, how were you to know?"

"I should have trusted you when you said you cared about the people, not yourself." Thad admitted truthfully, anxious to accept some blame. He hesitated before carefully saying, "If you really do care about 12's welfare and not your own, you…you can come...tonight."

"Tonight?" She repeated, puzzled.

"For "stew" at Colvin's." He responded, raising a meaningful eyebrow .

"Oh... _oh_...Thad, you're serious?" Cassia breathed, hardly believing that he could be inviting her to a rebel meeting after his stinging words less than ten minutes ago.

He nodded somberly. "This is me making up for my lack of faith in you. Don't tell Dad for now, but you can listen in this once. If you still want to "eat stew" after tonight," he added with a small smile. "I will go and talk with him personally about letting you join. Just as long as you know what sacrifices this will entail."

"I do," She whispered, face beaming with joy. What a turnaround this night has been. "Thank you, Thad, for finally understanding. Thank you so much."

"Couldn't let my little sister sit out here and cry, could I?" He teased gently.

"Hey, you're only two years older, so don't get too cocky." Cassia grinned up at him, her insides squirming in excitement.

"True," he conceded, helping her up from the step. "Well, we better get going, don't want to be late, would we?"

Cassia inhaled a long, cool drought of the evening air as they set off on the dirt street towards the Praeta house. Her pulse thudded in excitement as she quickened her pace to keep up with Thad's long strides. At long last, she was being admitted into the rebellion; her voice was being heard above the cacophony. Most importantly, she was helping to bring about lives and a better Panem for everyone. And in the velvety darkness, a huge smile split her face.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for checking this first chapter out! I've had this idea stuck in my head for over a year and I never knew if it would ever actually get written! This story will be set almost entirely pre-Dark Ages, so most of the actual HG characters will not be seen. I hope you'll want to stick around anyways; my goal with this is to tell the full background story behind the Hanging Tree song and of the first rebellion in Panem. This is also my first HG fic, so please, review away and let me know what you think! (No flames though) The cover photo is my original artwork, though I apologize for the exceedingly crappy quality. Blame it on my scanner._

 _I apologize to any former readers of mine who are waiting for me to write the NNFT sequel; I promise I have not forgotten!_

 _Cheers everyone! ~Earial_


End file.
